


The Man Your Man Could Smell Like

by likebrightness



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She hates a lot of things about Finn, really. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Your Man Could Smell Like

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** My first Finntana. This is almost completely [](http://rockinrye.livejournal.com/profile)[**rockinrye**](http://rockinrye.livejournal.com/) 's fault. Done to fill a prompt at the [Santana Lopez Drabble Meme](http://santana-lopez.livejournal.com/6320.html?page=1&view=623024#comments). Absurd title is absurd.

It takes her a fairly long time to decide what to text Finn, but she supposes a good half of that is due to her hangover. Normally she’s really good at post-one night stand snark. But it took her fifteen minutes to even open her eyes this morning, so excuse her for not being immediately witty.

Finn’s not there when she wakes up, and at first, she’s not one hundred percent sure she had sex at all, much less that he’s the one she slept with. But she’s tangled in the sheets on only one half of the bed, and she’s a greedy sleeper most of the time; if there’s not anyone else in her bed, she’s generally spread eagle in the middle of it. Not to mention the fact that she has a delicious kind of soreness between her thighs that makes her certain she got some. Plus, there’s still an indent in the pillow next to her, like whoever woke up and snuck out did it as quietly as possible, barely disturbing the mattress.

Normally, she doesn’t think Finn would be the type of guy to sneak out. Sure, he was an _ass_ in high school, but when she met him at a party most of the way through freshman year, he seemed to have grown up a lot. (His jawline definitely grew up, anyway, basically sculpted and scratchy with stubble.) She knows he has class right now, though. Yes, they hang out enough that she knows his class schedule, vaguely anyway. So sue her. Really, she’s been enjoying spending time with him. They’re a little group: her and Finn and Puck and Mike. They all squish into Mike’s dorm room—which is ridiculous because Puck and Finn’s place is way bigger, but they seem to like fighting over who gets the futon and who is relegated to Mike’s roommate’s bean bag—and play Call of Duty or Halo or Mario Kart. Most of the time that they play COD or Halo she sits out, preferring to yell directions and laugh whenever they die, but she’s a sucker for those old school games. Plus, none of them have beaten her in Mario Kart basically ever (except Puck when she was like seven, so that doesn’t count), so that makes it fun, too.

Back on topic, though. Finn. Last night. Her tangled sheets.

She really thinks he’d still be there if he didn’t have class. Perhaps it’s better that he does, though. It gives her time to get a grip on her hangover and send him a bitchy text message.

“I know it was you that I fucked last night…I can smell my disappointment all over the sheets.”

It’s mean, she knows, but she’s mean, so deal with it. Finn’s not such a pussy anymore; he’s gotten used to her bitchy side and generally just laughs at her. She hates that she kind of likes it.

She hates a lot of things about Finn, really. Like the way he _lets_ her kill him in Halo when she has a test that week because he knows what stresses her out and what calms her down. Or how he knows her coffee order (iced vanilla latte) and her favorite hangover food (a bacon and avocado omelet from Susie’s Diner). Or how he’s just kind of stupid nice, to everyone, like he’s a good person or something and it makes her actually _like_ him and kind of feel bad about herself at the same time.

Mostly though, she hates that it isn’t disappointment she can smell on her sheets. It’s him. Not even his cologne or anything, because he stopped wearing it after she told him the cloud of odor around him was almost as big as his fucking hulk shadow. He wears Old Spice deodorant, though, and she can smell that. And his shampoo, which, no, she doesn’t know what it is (because she and Puck stopped fucking a long time ago, so it’s not like she ever uses their shower), but she _knows_ it. Even when she’s in a bar, and the boys aren’t there yet, if Puck doesn’t yell something inappropriate at her from across the room, she first realizes they’ve arrived because she can smell Finn’s fucking shampoo before any of the guys clap her on the back or any of the bro shit they do. She hates that she doesn’t tell him anything mean about it. She hates that when they’re all hanging out at his and Puck’s apartment and she gets cold, it’s Finn’s room she goes into to get a sweatshirt. She always picks one that’s thrown over a chair or hanging on the door handle, because that way it’ll smell like him and not laundry soap.

He doesn’t text her back. She can’t be disappointed, really, because he became a good student in college, and he probably doesn’t even have his phone turned on in lecture. She is nervous, though. She tries to take her mind off it with her hangover routine: three Advil, a shower with Billie Holliday playing so she can just barely hear it over the water, then snuggling back into bed in a pair of boxers and an over-sized t-shirt. Except even the fleeting glance she gives the clock as she gets dressed makes her realize that he’s out of class now, has been out of class for like half an hour, and he still hasn’t texted back and God, she’s probably fucked everything up. They were a nice foursome, and she was okay being one of the bros, really. Sometimes they even joked about how both Finn and Puck had seen her naked, but somehow she didn’t think it’d be as funny anymore. She wouldn’t care, but Finn’s probably going to be all awkward and she actually fucking _likes_ the guy, which really sucks, and she should probably just go back to fucking Puck because that was at least simple and never made her hangover four hundred times worse, the way this is.

She buries herself under pillows but she’s _not_ crying because, whatever, she doesn’t like him _that_ much. The pillows, though, muffle everything, so she doesn’t quite hear her apartment door being unlocked and opened, size 13 sneakers being slipped off, and those giant feet as close to tiptoeing as they can toward her bedroom. She does hear the creak of that door, though, and she jolts, looking to the door like there’s going to be an axe murderer there.

“Jesus, you scared me half to death!” she snaps before she remembers to be worried that this might be awkward.

“Hope you don’t mind that I stole your keys,” Finn says. He’s grinning that doofus grin of his and she has to look away so she doesn’t blush. “I figured you’d be sleeping until after class.”

He comes all the way into her room finally, and she looks at him again even though he’s still grinning. He holds up a plastic bag with Susie’s Diner written on the side. She does blush, then, and makes room for him on the bed.


End file.
